Last Chance
by Solora Goldsun
Summary: They have fallen on this deserted island. The Pict are coming. This may be their last chance at happiness before they are changed forever. Some scenes that were missing from Paint It White. Pairings: GerIta, Ameripan, FrUK, and maybe RoChu.
1. GermanyItaly

**HA! YES! I DID IT! OWNED! Ahem... Sorry. I've been a Hetalia fangirl for three years, but have never been able to write a good fanfiction. I don't know why. Well, thanks to my long-overdue viewing of the movie, Paint It White, the Mallet of Inspiration has finally hit me! I decided that there were a few scenes that were sorely MISSING from the movie. *glares at Japan* This series of connected oneshots takes place after the gang was forced to jump off of the Pict's spaceship and landed on an island. This first one is one of MANY missing GerIta moments. *is still glaring at Japan* The first bit is from when Germany regained consciousness and had his near-death experience. The rest is what SHOULD have happened. If only Japan hadn't walked in seconds after Germany found Italy... There were so many opportunities... *continues to glare* Enjoy! ^_^**

**PS- If you haven't seen Paint It White yet, GO ON YOUTUBE! A WONDERFUL person by the name of BreezyFastpitch uploaded the whole thing with English Subs! (If you're reading this, Breezy, I don't know you but I FREAKING LOVE YOU!)**

**PPS- Don't be fooled by my glaring, Japan. You're still my favorite!**

Germany's eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted with darkness. 'Wha...?' Slowly, painfully, he managed to force himself to stand. As his sight adjusted, he realized that he was in a dense jungle of some sort. His hair hung damply around his forehead and black mud decorated his face like haphazardly applied war paint. Every part of his body was aching from the fall: muscles, bones, skin, everything. He looked around, blinking blearily at his discouraging surroundings. Out of habit developed from years of training, despite his physical and mental fatigue, he began to stumble across the landscape.

At some point during his trek, his green jacket fell to the ground in a sweaty, dew-drenched heap. The humidity of wherever he was made it so he didn't care. He simply smoothed some of his hair back from his brow and continued walking. After a few hours of endless jungle, he elected to talk to himself. Maybe it would help to fill the void of silence that surrounded him and stave off the effects of madness that were _surely_ approaching.

'I've...lost track of time.' It would be easiest to sum up the situation in his mind. It wasn't likely to help him come up with a solution, but it would be something.

'When I woke up, I found myself on this unfamiliar island. I started walking through the jungle alone with no idea where I was going.' In the back of his mind, Germany realized how pathetic he sounded. Even his _thoughts_ carried a ring of defeat!

'I was separated from them all... I don't know if they're alright.' At this, a pang of sadness struck his heart. His companions' faces flashed through his mind: America, excited and self-assured; England, foul-mouthed and determined; France, amorous and sensitive; Russia, childishly cheerful and sadistic; China, animal-obsessed and happy; Japan, timid and steadfast; and Italy...carefree, loyal, naive Italy... All of them were gone. Maybe forever...

'I don't know how much of our world has been lost. For all I know, this is the last place left in the world. The Pict could have overtaken everything by now.' If that was true, it was logical to assume that this place would be next.

Germany stared up at the sky through the leafy canopy, watching the cold, emotionless stars wink back at him. 'These may be my final moments. But...' The scenery around him swayed and blurred as he fell to his knees. 'I...I'm at my limit.'

He took a deep breath as he fixed his gaze on the ground, his final resting place. 'I don't want beer anymore. I just want water.' This, more than anything, told Germany that his time was coming. 'I don't even want wurst. I just want some sort of food!' Letting out a final sigh of defeat, the great nation slowly collapsed in the dirt. All he could see was a few shifting trees...darkness...an orange glow...

...An orange glow?

Germany's eyes snapped open and he sat up again, feeling strength and hope flooding through his veins. "Who's over there?" He wondered aloud to himself. The sound of his own voice further assured him that he was still sane, sending a new burst of courage through his body. He started to jog toward the light, hardly daring to believe it. He panted with lingering exhaustion. The forest was still swimming in his vision, but he forced himself to keep going. All of his focus was on reaching this light.

Could this be that fabled light at the end of the tunnel? If so, the Lord seriously needed to do some tree trimming... Then again, if the light was orange...could that mean he was going to the other place?

All of these wild fancies vanished as Germany broke through the tree line. He stopped dead in his tracks and let out a gasp of disbelief. There, sitting by a crackling fire, cooking pasta, donning that stupid brown cat on his head, was Italy!

"I-Italy? He...?" Germany stared dumbly for a moment, before regaining his composure. "Italy!" He called out, walking into the ring of light cast by the fire.

Italy looked up, his face blank for a moment, before grinning brightly. "Hi, Germany!" He chirped, waving his ladle in the air. "I made pasta!"

Despite everything, Germany felt the tiniest of smiles come to his face. Wordlessly, he walked over and sat down on the log next to Italy, accepting a bowl of freshly made pasta. (How all of the ingredients, plates, and utensils got there, he had no idea.) It was relatively plain, only seasoned with butter, but it tasted wonderful! After finishing one plate, he reached for the ladle, only to be stopped as Italy touched his wrist. 'What?' A warm flush traveled up his arm and to his face.

"Ve~ Don't eat it all, Germany! The others will be hungry when they get here!" Italy withdrew his hand and inhaled what was left of his own pasta.

Germany blinked in confusion. "You found the others already? Where are they?"

Italy shook his head. "I didn't find them. They're gonna find us! They'll see the fire and smell the pasta, then we'll all be together again!"

"I see..." The taller nation breathed a sigh. 'I can't bring myself to tell him...that the others may well be gone...' He looked out toward the ocean. 'The view is actually rather beautiful.' He thought to himself. 'It's a pity that the Pict will soon take this place away as well...us along with it...'

"Ve! Germany! Are you crying?" Italy stared at his best friend, an expression of panic on his face. Germany never cried! This wasn't right!

Germany let out a start before turning toward the scared Italian. Subconsciously, he touched a hand to his cheek. It came away wet. 'He's right... When did I start crying?'

"Did you eat the pasta too fast? Is there sand in your eyes?" Italy leaned close, trying to discern what the problem was.

"No." Germany muttered as the brunette fussed over him. "It's not that. I'm just...scared." He hated himself for admitting it, but at least Italy would be the only one to know.

"Scared?" Italy moved back and tilted his head. "You've never been scared before!"

This statement caused the German to laugh humorlessly. "I have been scared many times, Italy. I've just never been this scared before. Even as we speak, the Pict are searching for us. When they find us again, I honestly don't think we'll be able to win against them. We'll be turned into noppera and the Earth will be drained of everything." At this, his voice cracked and he ran the back of his hand across his leaking eyes.

Italy stared at his friend, an uncharacteristically solemn expression on his face. 'Germany really is scared...and sad... Maybe I can cheer him up!' He threw his arms around Germany's shoulders and held him tightly. "Don't worry, Germany! I'll still like you, even if we become noppera!"

Germany smiled weakly and rested his head on Italy's shoulder. "I don't think we'll have the option to like each other when we're noppera...but thank you."

"You're welcome!" Italy chirped as he pulled back. He was stopped short, however, as Germany lifted his head from his shoulder at the same time, bringing the two nations nose to nose. The cool light from the stars glittered in two pools of sky blue. Italy found himself opening his eyes fully so that he could see the glimmer better. 'Germany has really pretty eyes...'

Similar thoughts were drifting through the taller nation's mind as he took in Italy's warm, soft, sparkling, brown eyes. At that moment, Germany became intimately aware of every detail of the current situation: Italy's hands still resting on his shoulders, the way his eyes were beginning to drift shut, the warm sensation blooming in his chest, the fact that he was starting to lean closer...

Germany's lips were rough, dry, and tasted of salt. Still, Italy made a quiet sound of happiness as they pressed against his own, immediately responding. He wrapped his arms more securely around the German's neck, bringing up one hand to tousle those messy blonde locks. 'He looks cuter when his hair is messed up...' He mused to himself. 'Like when he first wakes up in the morning...'

Was it even possible for a pair of lips to be this soft, or for a kiss to be this gentle? Germany wouldn't have thought so before this moment. Italy seemed to meld perfectly against him, playing with his hair and kissing him tenderly, lightly, as if he was a priceless artifact. Now, there was nothing timid about this kiss. No...it seemed as if Italy was simply moving slowly, building up to something.

It was obvious that Germany didn't know a thing about kissing. That was okay! Italy actually found it to be rather endearing. Still, he didn't want to move too quickly, just in case his friend was unsure. This was a kiss he had been dreaming about for a long time, after all. Carefully, he moved one hand from its position in the German's hair and down to caress his cheek. He felt Germany sigh quietly, encouraging him to tilt his head and kiss more passionately, moving his lips just a little more insistently.

'This feels...wonderful...' Germany's heart fluttered like a butterfly in his chest as he moved his arms up, wrapping them around Italy's waist and upper back, pulling the smaller nation closer. A moist, warm tongue ran across his lower lip and he allowed it in without hesitation. A pleased groan escaped his throat as Italy's tongue expertly teased and stroked his own.

Slowly, Italy moved back, ending the kiss. His face was hot and his heart was hammering against his ribcage. To his delight, he could see that Germany's face was also a bright red color. "You're blushing, Germany!" He whispered, his voice much softer and sweeter than usual.

Germany glanced to the side, his cheeks flushing deeper with embarrassment. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move away, as he normally would be doing at this point. 'It won't be long until we're taken...' He thought to himself. 'I suppose...I can allow myself this...one last pleasure before I am changed...' He turned back to look at Italy just as the brunette let out an adorable yawn. Germany chuckled quietly to himself and allowed the smaller nation to curl up on his lap and nestle his face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms protectively around Italy, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction. It felt perfectly right to be holding his friend like this, to stroke the side of his neck, to know that the Italian was listening to his heartbeat as his dark eyes drifted shut.

Italy breathed a happy sigh. He felt so warm and safe snuggled up against Germany, listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. He nuzzled the worn fabric of that black sleeveless shirt and felt himself drifting off, the scent of sweat, salt, and buttery pasta in his nostrils. "Wake me up when the others get here..." He mumbled right before he drifted off. "Ve..."

At these words, Germany's face fell slightly. 'The others...' He looked out toward the vast jungle, frowning to himself. 'Could they really be alive? If so, will they find their way?' He glanced down at the sleeping nation in his arms. 'I don't dare leave him alone...' A light breeze ruffled his hair as he looked back toward the trees. 'Get here safe, everyone. Find us. Please...' Out loud, he said only: "I will, Italy. When the others get here..."

**Yes...this is what should have occurred. *nods* Next, I will address my other favorite pairings: Ameripan, FrUK, and maybe RoChu. The first two definitely were hinted at in the movie. ^_^ Another reason why I loved the movie was that THE FIGHT SCENE AGAINST THE PICT WAS FREAKING EPIC! Fangirls, get some tissues, because we get to see all of our boys (except Italy) fighting aliens in an incredibly hot and amazing fashion! Please review, but don't flame. This is my first Hetalia fic after all. Peace out!**

**PS- What happened to the cat, you may ask? Well, that's OBVIOUS! He jumped off of Italy's head and sat down by the fire, where he was treated to an unobstructed view of GerIta awesomeness. *sigh* Kinda makes me wish I was a cat...or some animal that can sneak into unsuspecting nations homes to spy on them... Hm... *ponders***


	2. FranceEngland

**I would say that I'm in a FrUK-ish mood today... But that would sound just too freaking wrong! LOL! The point is that I wanna type these two up now. One thing I love about this movie is that there was maybe...one USUK hint which can easily be translated to brotherly love in my mind. Next to that, there were...about ten FrUK moments! The one that stands out is when they were on the Pict ship and read that, while their countries are always fighting, they can also get along. In my fangirl mind, that was a HINT! Another thing my fangirl mind noticed is this: When the other nations followed Japan into the clearing (RUINING the potential GerIta moment *glares at Japan*), England was RIGHT next to France. Which means that they came out of the woods together, which means that, at some point, they must have walked through the woods together, which means that they were IN THE WOODS TOGETHER! There was also the fact that they were both smiling... ^_^ Let's see what the movie-writers NEGLECTED to show us, shall we?**

'Ugh...' England's limbs felt like lead. His body was bent in what surely was an unnatural position. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. His eyelids were covered in grit and didn't want to open. 'I...must have survived...' Wiping the crust off of his eyes and painfully forcing himself into a seated position, the Englishman grimly took in his surroundings. 'Yeah...I survived. If I was dead, this would be a sunlit meadow filled with unicorns and pixies...'

"Hiya, England!" A familiar, high-pitched voice split the night.

"Huh?" England turned around hopefully. His emerald eyes lit up at what they saw. "Flying Mint Bunny!" Immediately, he opened his arms and was tackled to the ground by his favorite magical friend. "I'm so happy to see you! I thought that the Pict might have gotten you. Are the others okay?"

The tiny green creature nodded. "They're fine. I don't think the mean aliens can see any of us. They're hiding anyway, just in case." His little wings fluttered. "But not me! I wanted to make sure you were okay!"

England smiled and stroked his friend's soft fur. "I'm glad you came. I don't know how long it'll be before the Pict come for us. It's nice to see a friendly face before I'm taken."

Flying Mint Bunny tilted his head, frowning slightly. 'England isn't usually like this... He never gives up!' "You and your friends can fight them! Make them go away and leave us alone! You're super strong, England! So are your friends!"

England's hand stopped moving and a sober expression came to his face. "I...don't know how many of them are still alive...if any..." A horrible thought struck him. 'What if I'm the last nation on the whole planet? That means that I'll just keep running and running until the Pict finally catch up with me and make me one of their own. Then all hope will die with me!' He was broken out of his morbid musings as a tiny paw nudged his cheek.

"When I was flying over, I saw two of them sitting by a fire that way." The bunny pointed to the right.

"What?" Within seconds, England was standing up. 'If two of them are alive...' "Flying Mint Bunny, I want you to patrol the area and guide anyone else you find toward the fire. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure England! You can count on me!" With a bright smile on his face, the magical creature disappeared into the jungle.

"Be careful!" Just as the weary nation was about to make his way toward his companions, a girlish scream caused him to stop dead in his tracks. 'Huh...?' He turned his head toward the sound. It sounded very similar to France's voice. 'Why would France be screaming? Unless...' His green eyes widened. 'The Pict!'

England rushed into the trees, jumping over logs, shoving branches to the side, keeping a watchful eye on the terrain, ready for one of those white monsters to jump out at him. 'Where is he...?' He couldn't hear the odd noises the aliens made. Had they already transformed France and left? The thought caused an icy fist to clench the Englishman's chest. "I gotta be close..." He murmured out loud. "Almost-ARGH!"

Within one second, England tripped, fell head over heels, and landed flat on his back. "Bloody logs..." He grumbled as he started to stand up. He froze as he saw, sprawled out on the ground a few feet away, pink outfit coated with dirt, France! The older nation was shaking out his blonde locks and sitting up.

"You could watch where you're going, you punk." France grumbled, feeling the spot on his back that his rival had so rudely kicked. Secretly, he was relieved beyond belief to see him!

"Bloody frog!" The younger nation felt familiar hatred for his prissy enemy flaring up. "That's the thanks I get for coming to rescue you?" A quick check told him that there were no aliens in the area. "You were screaming so loud, every Pict in the sky will be landing in this bloody spot! What were you bloody yelling about anyway?"

The Frenchman pushed his hair back out of his face and let out a superior huff. "Your language is as charming as ever, _Angleterre_. If you must know, a large, flying, green creature flew at my face. Nearly gave me a heart attack." He placed a hand on his chest. "And my poor heart is going through so much strain already..."

England breathed a sigh. 'Flying Mint Bunny...' "Let's just go. There's a fire this way."

"What?" France perked up immediately. "How do you know?"

"...That's not important. Let's just go."

As the two nations walked, France kept muttering under his breath. Eventually, some words became audible. "...filthy island...green monster...following England...his fault we're in this mess, anyway..."

"And _how_ is any of this my fault?" England growled, stopping dead in his tracks.

France rolled his eyes as he fixed his white scarf. "Your appalling attempt at culinary artistry is what turned them against us. They were so close to making peace with us, and _you_ ruined it!"

A thick eyebrow started to twitch in agitation. "If you're referring to my scones, they are a delicacy!"

"Ha!" The Frenchman folded his arms and shook his head. "You don't even know the meaning of the word!"

"Don't act so superior, wine-loving bastard! From what I've heard, 'delicacies' taste 'odd'. That's not a far cry from 'appalling' in my book!"

"Clearly, your intelligence is rapidly leaking out of your ungroomed head."

"At least I _have_ intelligence to lose!"

The two nations stood there for a moment, glaring daggers at each other. Right when it seemed that the anger would escalate to physical violence, they turned away with simultaneous, deflated sighs.

"Why are we fighting, Angleterre? I don't wish for a petty argument to be my last act as a free man." France muttered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You're right." England folded his arms, staring at the ground. "This is stupid. Besides, the Pict are more likely to find us if we keep yelling." He glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye. "Want to keep heading toward the fire?"

"No..." The taller nation wearily sank down into a sitting position in the grass. "I'd like to just sit for awhile...if that's alright with you..."

"I suppose."

They sat in silence for few minutes before France spoke again. "Do you remember the last time we thought the world was ending? The year 1000? We were so positive that Judgment Day would come with that year."

"I remember." England chuckled at the memory. "You wanted me to pretend that you conquered me, since it was always your dream to do so, and you thought that you'd never get the chance otherwise."

"In a way, I wish that the world _had_ ended then. It seems to be a better fate to die than to become a faceless entity in a swarm."

"It doesn't seem like we have much choice." The Englishman pushed up the sleeves of his scarlet jacket and breathed a heavy sigh. "So..." He murmured. "Any last wishes before it really _does_ end for all of us?"

"I want..." France wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. "I want...to hold someone."

"Eh?" England blinked dumbly. That was one of the last things he had expected his rival to say. He had been imagining anything from "to dominate you yet again" to "one last night with a beautiful someone" or something stupid like that. This...was completely different. "What do you mean?"

"I don't like to be alone." The older nation admitted, staring fixedly at his shoes. "That's why I flirt with people so often. I enjoy the feeling of being wanted. Of being with someone...even if it's for one night and I never see them again. I would like to have that just one more time before I become a noppera, if only for a few minutes."

He seemed so helpless... Against all reason, England found himself scooting closer to his hated enemy. 'I never realized...I just thought he was a pervert. And while that still _is_ true, that's not the whole story...' He found his arms wrapping around the pink-clad nation and pulling him into a comforting embrace.

France let out a soft noise of surprise before melting against his rival, instinctively nuzzling the soft skin at the base of his throat. 'He's...very warm...' "Merci..." He mumbled, breathing a quiet sigh.

England felt his cheeks heat up as he felt his fellow nation snuggle up against him. He quickly beat down the warning signs that were popping up in his mind. 'It doesn't matter. We're going to be taken by the Pict soon, anyway. It's not like anyone will know.' Firmly clamping down on his usual restraints, he began to gently rub France's back, moving his hands in a soothing up and down motion.

Cerulean eyes grew cloudy as their owner began to feel something...a stirring in his chest... Why did the Brit's hands feel so perfect on his back? Why, considering the circumstances, did he feel like his heart was about to burst with happiness? These questions remained in his mind for less than a second before an answer formed. It was an easy enough answer, not one he tried to deny. After all, he of all people should know that denying such things is fruitless. Smirking to himself, he moved back so that he could gaze into those beautiful emerald eyes.

"Huh...?" 'Why is he looking at me like that?'

France tenderly reached toward the new object of his affection, holding his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted his head to the side and smiled calmly, his eyes glittering. "I just realized what else I would like before we are changed, mon Angleterre..." He purred quietly.

England's eyes became as wide as flying saucers (pun intended) as France's lips enveloped his own. He made a small noise of protest before closing his eyes and surrendering to the kiss. 'No one will know. No one will know. No one will know.' He repeated to himself

The Frenchman was in his natural environment once more. Already knowing what to do, his hands began to roam, searching for the places where their captive most liked to be touched. These places, they found, included the abdomen, the side of the neck, and the left side of the chest, right above the heart. At the same time, his lips moved lovingly against England's, trying to coax a stronger response from them. Eventually, he moved down to the throat and began to seek out the softest patch of sweet skin. When he found it, he began to nibble and suck on the spot.

The younger nation found himself being utterly swept away by France's undeniably perfect kisses. He let out soft cries of pleasure as his neck was ravished. A combination of fear and delight shot through his system as he was pressed down into the cool grass and kissed in, if possible, an even more passionate manner. The pure, unadulterated joy he was feeling swelled to a maximum as a hand slid under his shirt and pressed firmly against his rapidly beating heart. A tear trickled down his cheek as his heart melted in his chest.

France felt an overwhelming wave of tenderness as he took in England's beautiful face. He leaned down and softly kissed the single tear from the Brit's flushed cheek. When he pulled back and looked into those green eyes, he saw a combination of affection, happiness, and a trace of fear. With a comforting smile, he leaned down and whispered in his beloved's ear. "Don't worry, mon amour. I won't hurt you..."

Awhile later, England was self-consciously straightening his jacket as he and France walked on in silence. Both of them were still red in the face. Neither one could keep himself from smiling slightly at the other every now and then, inviting another rush of sweet warmth into the atmosphere between them. As the light of a fire and the scent of pasta came to their attention, the Englishman turned to his companion, forcing himself to take on a stern expression. "Not a word. Got that, git?"

France chuckled lightly and nodded his head. "But of course."

Not another word was spoken, but both nations still had the softest of smiles on their faces as they walked into the firelight.

**Were they out of character? Well...considering the fact that the world was ending... NO! They weren't! Was there an implied Lemon near the end? Hm... I'll let ya'll draw your own conclusions! ^_^ Did you likey? No likey? I hope you likey... Since I've been shooting so many glares at my poor Japan, I think I'll do the Ameripan chappie next! Japan needs some loving!**

**Japan: Eh... *starts to sneak away***

**Me: OH NO YOU DON'T! *kidnaps* Oh, America...**

**Please review, but don't flame. Flames make Iggy sad. Peace out! ^_^**

**PS- I just gotta ask... Who else thought that England looked unlawfully FINE in that red outfit? Come on! You know you thought it was completely hot! Admit it!**


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